


Technical Difficulties

by conceptofzero



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-16
Updated: 2011-10-16
Packaged: 2017-10-24 16:15:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/265454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/conceptofzero/pseuds/conceptofzero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the past twenty minutes, he's been talking to the Black Queen over the Fenestrated Walls. For the past twenty minutes, he's been forced to listen as she dissects his work like some over-enthusiastic serial killer, slicing everything to shreds until it doesn't look anything like what it's supposed to. For the past twenty minutes, Jack has been digging his fingers into his thighs in an effort not to snap back at her and get put to death because she's an overly picky bitch who can't be happy about anything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Technical Difficulties

For the past twenty minutes, he's been talking to the Black Queen over the Fenestrated Walls. For the past twenty minutes, he's been forced to listen as she dissects his work like some over-enthusiastic serial killer, slicing everything to shreds until it doesn't look anything like what it's supposed to. For the past twenty minutes, Jack has been digging his fingers into his thighs in an effort not to snap back at her and get put to death because she's an overly picky bitch who can't be happy about anything.

Needless to say, he is not a fucking happy camper. At least she's winding up her bullshit with a half-assed summary. It would be easier if she would just say 'everything you do is wrong and you should do it differently'. Then again, it would also be easier if he would just tell her to go fuck herself. Easier doesn't mean better in this case. The only plus to this entire thing is that she's sitting close enough to the wall that he's got a great view of her tits, but it's hard to enjoy it when she's been chewing him out over every single little thing.

"-not impossible, simply lazy. Having addressed this issues, I hope to see some improvements in your work," She tells Jack, and he grits his teeth and just nods, knowing better than to speak. The Black Queen simply reaches forward and ends the call.

The screen flashes off. Jack finally lets out the furious noise he's been holding in all fucking call and the few workers in his general area go scattering, all too used to Jack Noir in his unhappier moods. He's very good at knowing how to stab someone without nicking anything too important, since no one cares if any of the minor underlings end up in the hospital, only if they end up dead.

He puts his head down on his desk, tempted to slam it there half a dozen times and maybe knock himself unconscious. But something catches his attention. He raises his head again. The wall in front of him flickers a few times, and then the image of the Queen swims into focus again. Jack straightens up, "Your Majesty?"

There's no response. Jack frowns, watching as she shifts around and stretches, and doesn't respond to a think he's saying. He raises his voice, "Your Majesty? Can I help you?"

It doesn't seem like she's heard him. Her eyes glance in his direction, but they aren't looking at him. They're looking at something much closer. The surface of her own communication device? He's heard that hers turns into a mirror when she's not using it, and she does appear to be sitting in her boudoir. Jack raises a hand and waves, getting no reaction from her, not even a flickering of the eyes. He decides to take a risk, "You dumb bitch."

No response. Her wall must have crapped out and closed the connection on her end, but not on his. Great. Now he gets to stare at her for a few minutes until she calls someone else and realizes what's happened. Or maybe a few hours if he's the last call she has in mind. Jack leans his head on one hand, sighing. The last thing he wants to stare at is her at any rate. Maybe he'll attempt to move the Wall's scene over to someone else and see if he can interrupt the connection.

Just as he starts digging in his desk for the controls, the Queen makes a funny sort of noise. He glances up. She's still just sitting there. But she looks odd. Her normally perfect posture is less-so. She's actually a little slumped, and her eyes are closed, Jack watches, and she makes it again, a weird sort of 'uh' sound. He can't figure out what the hell she's doing. He leans in, trying to get a better look.

It only makes sense when she raises one hand back into view of the screen and starts to grope at her own breasts. He jerks back, mouth dropping open. There's one arm still below the screen, and he can see her moving it steadily. She's rubbing one out right in her boudoir.

Jack watches, unable to pull his eyes off of his screen. Her eyes are closed in concentration and her lips are pursed, soft little 'uh' noises occasionally escaping He can't see any lower than her breasts, but he can easily imagine her fingers at work beneath her dress, rubbing at her clit. The other hand continues to slide over the fabric of her dress, cupping and caressing her breasts. He licks his lips, watching as the hand slides up and then dips into the front of her dress.

She's giving him the show of a lifetime and she doesn't even know it. Jack quickly glances around to make sure there's no one else in the room. Any agents in the area cleared out the moment they heard Jack losing his temper and for once he's all alone. He cautiously hikes his own uniform up and wraps a hand around his cock. Maybe this is stupid, but he'll never get a chance like this again.

The Queen's completely unaware that she's being watched. Her head falls back a little, mouth opening as another slightly louder, "uh-huh," escapes. She's not preforming for anyone at the moment, and the sounds she's making are real, not just some attempt at being sexy. Jack strokes himself, watching her hand slide around inside the top of her dress. She tugs it down, and her breasts come tumbling out. He squeezes his cock, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from making a sound. They look amazing. What he wouldn't give to have his hands on them.

He matches his strokes with her arm, vaguely pretending that he's the one doing those things to her. The Queen's cheeks slowly get red, and she bites on her lower lip, her noises changing once again. Jack pictures her fingers thrusting in and out of her cunt, and he grits his teeth, stroking himself faster. She strokes her middle fingers across her right nipple in a circle, then switches and does the same to the left, as if she can't decide which side feels better.

"That's right," Jack mumbles to himself, unable to keep quiet, "Fuck yourself. Keep doing it. You fucking bitch. Look at you go."

The Queen pinches one nipple and mews, and Jack groans softly, jacking off beneath his desk. She's so fucking hot, and she has no idea that he's watching her. He's finally got something on her, something that probably even that stupid fuck of a husband doesn't know. The Queen likes rubbing one out after she yells at Jack. And that just makes him even harder.

Her breathing quickens and Jack watches as her arm does too. She starts to rock her hips, and he knows this because it moves the rest of her body, especially her breasts, which start to jiggle just perfectly. This is going to stay in his mind for the rest of his life, popping up every single time he gets a hand on his cock. He tells her as much, knowing that she can't hear him, "Fuck, I'm going to jerk off to this for years. Look at your breasts, look at how fucking perfect they are."

The Queen's face flushes until he can see the red spots high on her cheeks, and her eyes start to flutter a little. She's getting close, and everything in her face tells him that. The bitch is like an open book when she's playing with her cunt. He keeps talking, thrusting into his fist, "Come on, make some fucking noise you bitch. I want to hear you."

"ah-" She gasps out, and Jack's hand moves so fast, trying desperately to catch up with her. Her free hand falls away from her breasts and she arches her back, panting louder and louder, "ah. ah. Ah. Ah. Ah! Ah! Aaaah!" Her body goes rigid as she comes, and her arm jerks unsteadily, still thrusting into her.

Jack watches for as long as he can before it becomes too much and he comes too, gushing over his hand and onto his knees. He slumps against the back of his chair, body quaking slightly. Fuck. He needed that. He really needed that, "Fuck. Aw fuck. That was. That was fucking great," Jack tells her unresponsive image.

He watches as she leans forward against her vanity. Her breasts are still bared, and her face is slack and blissful. She catches her breath and then reaches just off screen, coming back with a handkerchief. The Queen's other hand comes up, wet and glistening, and she wipes it off. Jack watches, brain a bit dead from coming, as she tugs his dress back into place and adjusts herself. She's still flushed and her nipples poke through her dress, and Jack groans softly, trying to remember if she ever called him looking like that.

Jack looks down at the mess in his hands and looks around for something to wipe it on. Jack doesn't have a handkerchief or tissues or anything like that. He ends up wiping his hand off on a parking ticket, and does his best to clean up the mess with a few of those. They end up in the trash and he catches his breath, "Fuck. That was almost worth being bitched-out. A few more shows like that, and maybe I'd be a much happier Archagent."

The Queen looks at herself in the mirror, and Jack watches her brief beauty regime. He's still half-woozy from his orgasm, but not so stupid that he doesn't see what's coming immediately before it happens. She reaches for the connection button and Jack's eyes widen. Fuck, if she hits that and her screen turns back on, she's going to see him and realize that she never really ended the call.

He dives under his desk, just as she presses the button. Jack sees his own screen flicker from the inch of room beneath his desk, and he holds his breath, just in case she can hear him. His fucking chair rolls back a few inches and then goes still. He can't see the Queen, but he can hear the sudden intake of breath.

"Jack Noir, come out," She demands, and it takes all his will not to crawl out from under his desk and grovel in the vain hope that she won't kill him. The Queen doesn't know for sure that he's here. Maybe he left right after their call ended. Maybe the connection died on his end too. The only way she's know for sure that he just watched her rub one out is if he comes crawling out from under the desk, "I can see you Jack. Come out immediately. The longer you make me wait, the worse your punishment will be."

He doesn't move an inch. Fuck her, if she can see him, she's going to have to drag him out herself, and he's coming kicking and fucking screaming. Jack just waits, lungs starting to burn as he keeps holding his breath.

Jack can see the light from the wall, but he can't see her. It's getting hard to keep from breathing in. He waits, and time passes agonizingly slow. Finally, fucking finally, she ends the call and his screen goes black. And even then, he stays under his desk, but finally slowly sucks in a breath of air, trying to stay as silent as he can.

What should he do? Wait here? Make a break for it? Place all his trust in some vain hope that maybe, just maybe, she'll forget that he might have seen her masturbating? Jack has no fucking clue. It may just be quicker to go jump out one of the tower's windows than to wait for her to send the guards after him.

And while he's wallowing under his desk, the screen flicks back on, "Jack Noir, get out from under that desk right now," She demands, and when he doesn't move, adds, "I know you're there. I have access to the surveillance equipment in every single room, including yours. Now come out, or I'm going to watch you until you do."

Jack does not come out. Fuck her, maybe she does, but he's not going to make this easy. The light from the screen flickers, but it stays on. He doesn't hear anything from her, and Jack just waits, knowing that she's glaring at his desk right now. But as time stretches on, he begins to feel uneasy. She should be lecturing him right now.

Against all his instincts, he carefully crawls closer to the inch of space and presses his eye against it, trying to make sense of what he's seeing. The screen is blindingly white at first, and he squints until it slowly comes into focus. There's her room, but she's not in it. He frowns. Is she hiding too? As soon as he makes a move, she's going to lunge into frame and yell at him?

And as he's trying to figure this all out, he fails to hear the muted click of her feet on the floor until the last second, when he suddenly realizes that she left the screen on and came down to find him. Jack goes to scramble out from under the desk, only to find her already there. She grabs onto his uniform and slams him face-down on the desk, "Fuck!"

"Jack Noir," Her voice is like ice water running down his back when he speaks, "When I give you a direct order, I expect you to follow it-"

"What order?" He desperately lies, "I didn't hear any orders from you."

"I told you to come out," She pulls him out and forces him to look at the screen, "Or are you telling me that you already forgot?"

"What? I don't. No, I didn't get any orders!" Jack lies like he's never lied before, desperately attempting to make shit up, "Fuck, I was just taking a nap!" Shit, this may be the worst lie he's ever told. A nap? Fuck, fuck! Why the fuck did he say that? Why didn't he say he had to piss and was looking under his desk when he came back? Fuck, it's too late to go back, he just charges forward with the lie, "I woke up a few seconds ago and saw the light! I thought you were calling back after that lecture and-"

"You took a nap?" She doesn't believe him. And yet. It's still a question. She may actually be buying this, "Are you telling me that immediately after I finished discussing your disappointing performance, you crawled under your desk and took a nap?"

"Yes! I mean, not right away!" He tries to look at her, but she won't let him turn his head around. So he just does his best to make sense out of complete bullshit, "I started working on some new tickets first! Then I got tired and tried to take a nap! Fuck, I didn't realize you'd get so bent out of shape over a five minute nap!"

Her hand tightens and he feels like it might break through the carapace. But that glorious note of self-doubt is in the Queen's voice when she asks him, "And you didn't see anything else?"

"No! Was I supposed to? I was just getting up when you came in!" Jack decides to risk getting surly, "For fuck's sake, didn't I already get chewed out enough today?"

There a moment of silence. And then the Queen slams Jack's face into the desk and lets go of him. He staggers back, clutching his face while she just says, "If you're caught napping at work again, the punishment will be severe. This is your one and only warning. Get back to work."

"Fuck!" He says, rubbing his face as she walks out. His face stings like a bitch, but he can't stop the utter glee building inside of him. He just lied to her face and got away with it, and he now knows exactly what she looks like when she comes. Jack can't wait to tell-

... absolutely no one, because if he even breathes a word about this, she'll find out. He sighs with frustration and glances at her ass on the way out. At least he'll always know the truth.

He quickly jerks his head back towards his desk when she turns around, and gets back to work before she can get suspicious.


End file.
